


but plant your hope with good seeds

by whittler_of_words



Series: Antebellum [9]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: American Sign Language, Birthday Party, Codependency, Found Family, Light Angst, Saccharine Sentimentality, Selectively Mute Frisk (Undertale), Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 17:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20362474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: “Chara,” Asriel starts, “I don’t think I can keep this a secret anymore.”“What do you mean?”The town square sits as vividly in your memory as if you’d visited it yesterday, filled with people you hate, and you have to shake the image from your mind as Asriel continues to speak. “Chara...my parents need to know.”--But first, you have a surprise party to throw.





	but plant your hope with good seeds

“Chara,” Asriel starts, “I don’t think I can keep this a secret anymore.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says this. Knees drawn up to his chest, arms crossed over his legs as if to keep himself from running away, his gaze stays locked on the blankets strewn over his bed. The suspicion and preemptive sense of betrayal that rises in your gut is hard to bite down, but you do it. Of all people, you owe it to Asriel to at least hear him out first.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean-- what we’ve learned. What _I_ learned. About... you know,” he says, and you do. You’ve made him relay his recent trip to your old town enough times you feel like you’re the one who went instead of him. The town square sits as vividly in your memory as if you’d visited it yesterday, filled with people you hate, and you have to shake the image from your mind as Asriel continues to speak. “Chara...my parents need to know.”

You pause for a moment. “You’ll get in trouble,” you point out. “Like, big trouble. Heaps.”

Glumly, he says, “I know.”

“And what about everything else?” you prompt. “About me, and Frisk. Are you going to tell them about that?” 

“What?” he says, and he looks up then, finally. “No, no of course not! Not when you guys know for sure what you want to do yet. I can tell them about the humans without even mentioning you, I think.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you say anything for a while. The room is dark, because it’s late at night and you both should be asleep, but the thought in itself is laughable at this point. The space between your bed and Asriel’s feels bigger than usual. It makes your mind go to pranks where someone moves the furniture just an inch to the left, but instead they’ve gone the extra mile and expanded the architecture of the entire room, pulling you apart. It makes you want to bridge the space between you somehow, even if just with a blanket, but you’re pretty sure that’d just be weird.

You still want to do it, though.

“I’ll tell them soon,” he says, breaking the silence. His expression is uncertain, eyebrows drawn and teeth worrying at his lip, but his voice doesn’t waver. “Maybe...maybe after the trip.”

Oh. Right.

As if on cue, both of your gazes go to the bags sitting by the door. Nausea spikes in your stomach at the sight, and you have to look away after a moment, already wishing you could forget about it again.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” he asks, and the badly veiled hope in his voice does nothing to ease how sick you feel. “I heard nature camp is supposed to be really fun. I know they’d let you if you wanted.”

“No, it’s okay.” You shake your head. “If both of us go, there won’t be enough time to plan for the party. And I need to keep working on my magic,” you say, the excuse sounding meager to your ears. “But you should bring me back something. Like, a rock.”

Asriel snorts at that. “A rock? Really? Come on, I can do better than that!” His eyes gleam, even in the darkness. “I’ll bring you back something _really_ cool. You’ll see.”

“I’m sure.” The words come out a little more biting than you’d intended, but it’s too late to take them back now. You push on before he can notice. “Just try not to miss me too much when I’m not there to hold your hand next time you get scared.” Better.

“I won’t get scared!” he says, indignant. “Since when do I get scared?”

You don’t say anything. You can’t, because he doesn’t, but it’s easier to pretend things are one way when they’re anything but. You can’t leave him hanging forever, though, so after a moment, you tap your chin thoughtfully, squinting in his direction.

“Exactly. I’ve been here to protect you so long that you haven’t had the chance. I guess you’ll find out.”

“Hm.”

The silence grows heavy again. You’re tired of this.

“Go to sleep, Asriel.” 

“Okay,” he says, which only takes you by surprise because you weren’t actually expecting him to agree so readily. Your confusion only grows when his form slips off the bed, padding toward yours until his weight makes your mattress shift.

“What are you doing?” you ask, bewildered.

“Well, _I_ don’t want to sleep alone,” he starts. “We’re both going to have an entire week of that. So. I’m here.”

“Yeah,” you agree, the bitterness from before melting in your chest like wax in the sun, “you are.”

/// 

_<* Oh my gosh. Bus rides....are so boring!_

_>* Woe is you. Trapped in a container of ennui until finally, the Trees and Rocks may offer you sweet release._

_<* Chara, we’ve been over this! They are different rocks and trees! That’s what makes them cool!!!_

_>* And once again. I fear what it means that you consider any sort of tree and/or rock to be “cool”._

Your wait for Asriel’s response is interrupted when the door before you finally opens. You don’t bother tucking your phone away, but you figure you can’t be accused of being rude when the ghost in front of you is still wearing their headphones. 

“oh. hi, chara.” Napstablook floats aside. You don’t waste much time stepping inside the small apartment. “sorry to keep you waiting. i, uh.......got distracted. sorry......”

“It’s okay. I was finishing something up anyway,” you say shortly. “How’s the project going?”

Napstablook brightens up considerably at that, floating towards the other room where the computer is with more energy than seems possible. “i think i’m starting to get somewhere, which is nice,” they say, stopping by the chair. There’s a rug on the middle of the floor; you sit down cross-legged, right in the middle. “do you think you’d mind, uh, giving it a listen.....?”

“I’m all ears,” you say. You count their quiet little _heh_ in response as a victory.

The music that comes from Napstablook’s speakers sounds like it came straight from an old video game, like little blocks falling together in time to create something that you quickly find yourself tapping a foot to. Closing your eyes to listen more closely, you wish that your ear was more trained to really appreciate exactly how much work Blook must have put into something like this already, but as it is, the first thing you find yourself thinking when the music finally cuts out is that it was over too soon.

“what do you think...?”

“It’s...crunchy,” you start, trying to put your feelings into something comprehensible. “Like, if sound had a texture, it would be crunchy and kind of crinkly like shiny wrapping paper.” You’re worried that it doesn’t make any sense, but Blook nodding along encourages you to finish. “So they’ll definitely love it.”

The look of relief on their face is immense. “you really think so?”

“Knowing Frisk, they’d love anything you’d make for them,” you say, “but I catch them listening to stuff like this all the time. Maybe add some more bass though,” you offer, scratching your chin. “I think living with Gaster has gotten them into music they can feel.”

It’s a mystery to you how Napstablook can type on the computer without any arms. They don’t seem to have any problems taking notes on your thoughts, though, and you’re worried for a moment that they’ll be offended by your criticism until they speak again. “oh, good. i thought it was missing something, i just couldn’t put a finger on it.... i don’t usually do this sort of style, so i’m glad it’s not complete garbage......”

“It’s awesome,” you protest.

“it’s really the least i can do...” Even as they say it, they can’t hide the spectral blush on their face. “i want to contribute somehow, y’know...?”

“That reminds me. I need to see if Alphys and Undyne have figured out where we’re gonna have the party yet,” you say, climbing to your feet.

“you might wanna ask mettaton, too,” Blook says, surprising you. “i think when you told him he was in charge of decorating, he might’ve gotten a little, um....carried away.”

“Oh. That should be fine,” you say. “He probably has a good eye for that stuff.”

“he knows how to throw a party,” they admit.

“Thanks, Blook.” You offer them a smile as they walk you to the living room. Or, float, rather. You’re suddenly reminded of your phone in your hands when you go to open the front door, and try as you might to fight it, your smile can’t help but fall a little when don’t see any new notifications. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you do your best to shake it off. “I’ll let you know if there are any changes.”

“thanks,” they say. And then, “you can just ignore me if you want, but if you need any help with uh, like, the party, or anything else, you have my undernet handle...or if you don’t i can text it to you? sorry...”

The offer takes you momentarily off guard. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you say when you finally get your thoughts together. “Thanks.”

The sound of the door closing behind you happens much less quickly than you were anticipating as you walk away, and you almost feel bad for not looking back. 

///

_> *So, Mettaton went maybe a little overboard and decided that Frisk deserves nothing less than the grand ballroom for a birthday party._

_> *Normally I would agree with him but after explaining how that would probably freak them out, we managed to convince him to downgrade to one of the unused rooms in the lab._

_> *Which is cool, because we can tell them it’ll be like a special sleepover or something. We just have to clean out all the boxes in there and shit._

_> *Also, I have no idea how Muffet found out, but I woke up this morning with a letter on my dresser saying she would volunteer her catering services for the party. How the hell did she even get that in here without me noticing? Did one of her spiders deliver it?? I have many questions._

“Shoot! Not the glue!”

_> *Anyway... I’ve been looking around for our gift. I think I’ve found it, but I’m going to keep looking for a little while just in case. Let me know what you think._

_> * File: #3.png_

“Aw, beans. Maybe I should make them something else.”

MK is watching the puddle of glue spread slowly across the ground when you finally look up from your phone. You watch solemnly for a moment in agreement, until you remember you’re supposed to be the (literal) helping hand in this scenario, and nearly drop your phone in your haste to reach for the paper towels off to the side.

The board between you, fortunately, was out of the splash zone. It’s almost halfway done, the letters _YOU AR _painted and stickered and pasted onto the neon pink cardstock much more neatly than you would think, looking at the carnage surrounding you.

You’re not very much looking forward to picking up all the newspaper clippings. Such is the way of life.

“I think it looks great so far,” you offer. “Better than I would’ve done it.”

“Aw, really?” MK looks up at you hopefully, half disbelieving. “But you’re so good at this stuff!”

“Well, I already know I would’ve written something different,” you start. “And I probably wouldn’t have done it half as colorful. Plus, where’d you even get the idea of doing it as a half-scrapbook thing?”

“I thought it would be neat, y’know?” MK’s tail sweeps over the ground behind them as they look over to the small stack of pictures and drawings kept carefully off to the side, waiting for the lettering to be finished first. “So that way every time they look at it, they could think of all the cool stuff we’ve done together.”

“See. It’s thoughtful,” you tell them, giving up on mopping the glue completely and instead just laying the rest of the towels over it. At least there’s still some left in the bottle. “I wouldn’t have thought of that in a million years.”

“I just want them to know that I think about them,” MK says. “Like a good friend!”

“Aw. That’s so sweet,” you say, cupping your hand with a cheek. “Careful, I might barf.”

“Shut up, yo,” they laugh.

Your fingers are a little sticky. Ew. You hope you didn’t get too much glue on your face. “Seriously though, you’re overthinking it. If you don’t like it when it’s done, then I’ll help you figure something else out. Until then...” You gesture to the half-finished banner. “Just see where it takes you, I guess.”

“Man, you’re already helping me pick up all the small stuff, and now you’re giving me a whole pep talk,” they say. “Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it,” you reply. “Seriously. I can’t let anyone think I’m a good person.”

“Right,” MK says, furrowing their brows. “How dare you, evil human! I feel, like, so much worse now!”

“That’s better,” you relent.

///

Sneezing twice in succession, you wipe your nose with a hand, forgetting that your fingers are smeared with dust, and sneeze again.

_> *I’m almost 95% positive that Frisk knows something is up._

_> *Everyone here is spectacularly bad at keeping secrets, but even if they weren’t, I keep having to make excuses for why I’m not hanging out with them when I’m trying to get stuff ready._

_> *Master of deception that I am, I’m still kind of worried about hurting their feelings._

_> *I’ll just have to make it up to them._

_> *What do you think?_

“jesus,” Sans says, poking his head into the room and nearly making you jump. “was there a dustnado in here or what? we haven’t had one of those in years.”

“Maybe if you did some spring cleaning more often, it wouldn’t be so bad,” you retort, scrunching up your face at him. 

“but then it wouldn’t be spring cleaning.” He winks at you, the bastard. “it’d just be cleaning.”

“Oh, gosh!” You mangle your face into an “o” of surprise, hands clasping your cheeks. “Cleaning! Imagine that!”

Shuddering, he says, “i try not to.” But he has a couple of dusters in his hands when he walks all the way in, handing one to you without much fanfare. “still, this place looks pretty good. you’ve been working hard.”

“Yeah, well.” Giving the duster an experimental pass over your jacket, you’re surprised to find it practically sucks up all the detritus like magic. Which, uh, it probably is. “This will definitely help. Thanks, I guess.”

“don’t mention it.” Wandering off to one of the corners not filled with boxes, he sticks his duster up towards the ceiling and begins swiping away the errant spiderwebs. Most of the spiders were happy to clear out when they heard why you were taking over, but some of their structures had been left behind in their haste to relocate.

Trying not to sound too suspicious, you set your duster aside and go to pick up one of the boxes. “I thought you were busy.”

“was,” he says. “past tense. but i’d be a pretty bad dunkle if i didn’t lift a single fingerbone for this little shindig.”

“As if,” you snort. Something in the box you’re carrying squeaks as you walk. You do your best to ignore it. “You’ve been keeping Frisk busy. That’s like, half the battle right there.”

“sure.” He sets his duster down, looking kind of tired. “but uh, y’know, i’d still like to help.”

“Ahuh.” You point over to the rest of the boxes. “Help me move those, then. Mettaton wants to start putting furniture in tomorrow.”

“aye aye, captain,” he says, and even though neither of you talk until the room is empty, the loneliness that had started creeping into your throat recedes, just a little.

///

“Alright, BP, just a little to the left- no no, your _other_ left, yes, that’s it- ah, Chara darling, make sure you get my good angle!”

> _* File: OhNo.png_

“Did you get it?” Mettaton asks, turning just so as Burgerpants struggles to maneuver the giant folding table against the wall. “Do you need me to pose again?”

“Nah, I got it,” you tell him, giving him a thumbs up. “Thanks though.”

“Anything for a fan!” He turns back to the matter at hand, tsking in disappointment. “No, no, the symmetry is all wrong! Here, let me show you how it’s done--”

>_ *If this wasn’t all for Frisk I’m pretty sure Burgerpants would be quitting on the spot. Poor guy._

_> *But look at this shit. It’s coming out great._

_> *Probably not as great as your big nature camp adventure, but I guess I wouldn’t know._

> *_I mean. I hope you’re having fun._

Sigh.

Wincing at the sound of Mettaton’s voice as it rises once again in volume, feeling suddenly closed in even with such a spacious room, you tug your jacket a little more tightly around yourself and duck out into the hall, taking a moment to breathe. The sounds from inside are still audible (_Yes, there we go! Now, the balloons will go here, and of course the presents will all be here..._) but it’s distant enough to ease the anxiety threatening to spill out of your fingertips.

You feel like you should be helping, actually, but you’re pretty confident that Mettaton has it under control.

Which leaves you with nothing to do except...worry.

Looking down at the featureless floor as you walk through the halls towards the exit, ugly thoughts start to rise up in your mind like a black sludge, eating away at you from the inside. You’d known from the start that it would be hard, not having Asriel always nearby for a whole week. Which is, what, not even all that long in the grand scheme of things? It’s just hard to forget that you’ve been practically joined at the hip since you first met. You’d expected to feel anxious, and a little scared, and maybe a little angry.

You’d never thought he would ignore you, though. 

Maybe you should have?

“Shut up,” you mutter to yourself. It does nothing to actually quiet your thoughts, but the illusion of control has always been a good enough substitute for the real thing -- for you, at least. Of course Asriel wouldn’t ignore you for this long on purpose. You _know_ him. But the other options at hand are almost even less appealing; did he lose his phone? Did he get hurt? Did humans find the class, out in the forest where they could run into anything? Like a fucking bear?

Is he _gone?_

You remember this feeling. It settles around your shoulders like a blanket still not thick enough to keep you warm. Like a knife in your back. Like a knife in your own hands. It’s the feeling of sitting out somewhere, by yourself, no way to reach out, wondering: where is he? What is he doing? Has he made new friends? Is he safe? Is he coming back?

Like a knife in your own hands, you can’t help but keep driving the thoughts deeper and deeper, and like the jacket around your shoulders, you can’t even fathom the thought of letting it go.

After you did what you did -- after you left and ran and ran and ran -- did _they_ ever come back? Are they safe?

Should you even care?

All of these thoughts come to a screeching halt when a skeletal hand finds itself waving just in front of your face, and you take a sudden step back to realize you and Gaster had both been moments from crashing into each other. 

_PARDON, _he signs. _EVERYONE TELLS ME I SHOULDN’T READ AND WALK, BUT YOU SEE... I HAVE A PERMIT. _He taps a finger against the badge tacked onto his sweater, which reads “ROYAL SCIENTIST”. It’s also made out of taped together cardboard and glitter glue.

And indeed, he’s also got a clipboard in his hands that has a frankly terrifying amount of paper folded over the back, which has you wondering if he didn’t read all that already in one sitting. It takes a moment for you to get your bearings enough to respond. _You were paying more attention than I am._

_PERHAPS. _He motions for you to lead the way, and he takes step after you, shuffling through that huge leaf of paper for a moment before letting it fall back. _SOMETHING ON THE MIND?_

_Yeah._ You must look awful. Placing a hand over your cheek, you do your best to try and drain some of the heat out of your face. _Just nervous about some things._

He all but raises an eyebrow at you. _BUT NOT THE PARTY, I’D ASSUME._

_I mean, the party is part of it,_ you sign maybe a little more aggressively than you’d meant to. _Why?_

_EVEN IF SOMEONE WERE TO SPILL THE BEANS NOW, FRISK WOULD STILL BE SO ECSTATIC AND TOUCHED BY ALL THIS THEY’D CONSIDER IT EVEN MORE OF A GIFT THAN ALL OF OUR ACTUAL GIFTS COMBINED. BY ALL ACCOUNTS,_ he says, _THAT ALREADY MARKS THIS EVENT AS A SUCCESS. THOUGH OF COURSE WE ARE ALL DOING OUR BEST TO KEEP IT A SURPRISE._ His coat, which is nearly long enough to be classified as a robe, swishes as he walks. _ACTUALLY, I SUSPECT THEY MAY ALREADY HAVE AN IDEA THAT WE’RE PLANNING SOMETHING. _

A small smile settles on your face at that. _Almost certainly,_ you say. _They’re pretty perceptive. Also, not everyone can be Metta-level actors._ You’re glad to get a chuckle out of him from that, even if the relief can’t last forever. _I know the party will be great. I just..._ All the thoughts you’d so hastily locked away beat against the back of your eyes like a starving animal smelling fresh blood, and you blink them away, flipping over the hand on your face as your palm grows too warm. _I can’t help being a little anxious, I guess._

Gaster nods, but says nothing. Your combined footsteps are the only conversation between you for a while, until you finally enter on the main lab and the exit beyond it. Turning to tell him goodbye, you instead find him holding up a hand to you in wait.

_THERE’S SOMETHING I’VE BEEN MEANING TO GIVE YOU,_ he says, which is worrying enough. He wanders into one of the other rooms and returns a few moments later with another tome in his hands, which is worrying two-fold. _I STUMBLED OVER IT WHEN LOOKING THROUGH OLD RESEARCH FOR FRISK’S GIFT. I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND ITS ANTIQUITY, BUT I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT APPRECIATE IT MORE THAN MYSELF_.

It’s heavy, when you take it, and you can’t help but frown against the feeling that you’re being given something too important for you to accept. _Research? On what?_

_THE EFFUSIVE NATURE OF MONSTER MAGIC AND ITS AMBIENT EFFECTS GIVE MUCH OF THE SURROUNDING FLORA OF OUR TOWN SOME... VERY UNIQUE TRAITS,_ he says, absently scratching at his face with a free hand. _PROPERTIES THAT ARE DIFFERENT LEVELS OF COSMETIC, MEDICINAL, AND POISONOUS IN NATURE. THIS IS LIKELY THE ONLY COMPLETE FIELD GUIDE ON THE SUBJECT._

Wait, what? You look down at the papers in your hand with a new perspective, and back at Gaster in confusion. _Are you sure you should be giving me something so important?_

He at least has the sense to look sheepish when he says, _IN ALL HONESTY, I FORGOT I’D EVER WRITTEN THIS GUIDE UNTIL I FOUND IT AGAIN. I GET THE FEELING MUCH MORE USE WOULD BE MADE OF THIS IN YOUR HANDS THAN IN MINE._

Oh. _Thanks, _you say, suddenly unsure how to feel. _I don’t think I’m sleeping tonight._

_A TRUE SCIENTIST ALREADY,_ he says, practically beaming, and you spend the rest of the day thinking of nothing but flowers.

/// 

_So, how many people are there gonna be?_

Picking at your nails where you sit in the grass, you spare a casual glance at the door in wait of Toriel’s presence, and look just as casually back at your nails. “Whatever do you mean?”

_Come on,_ Frisk says, practically sprawled out on the grass in front of you. It’s a warm, lazy morning, and it’s nice to waste away your free time before class like this. _I want to be at least a little prepared for however many people there’s gonna be._

Looking at them sidelong, you find them squinting back at you, no trace of backing down in their expression. You sigh heavily. “Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, “but it’s not like I’d ever put you in a situation where you’d have to deal with an overwhelming amount of party-goers at once.” Waving a hand dismissively, you lean back a little in the sun. “Just like, a reasonable friend-group amount.” You pause. “Hypothetically.”

_Ahuh._ Frisk rolls onto their side, and then sits up, grass all in their hair. _Promise?_

There’s something worried in the way their eyebrows scrunch together with the question. “Cross my heart,” you say, immediately doing so. “And also, speaking from personal experience as someone who’s been on the hypothetical receiving end of a hypothetical party situation, it’s all pretty chill. What, you’re worried about being overwhelmed?” You pause. “Or...do you want to...go?”

Their eyes widen, and they shake their head, though you’re not sure at what until they say, _No, I want to go! _Frisk looks almost guilty as a hand goes to the back of their head. _I just don’t want to have to leave early, after everyone’s been trying so hard..._

Hrm. “Well, whatever happens, it can’t be as bad as how I reacted the first time they threw me a party,” you muse.

_Aw no,_ Frisk says, managing to look sympathetic and amused at the same time. _What happened?_

“Locked myself in my room,” you tell them solemnly. “I was so sure I’d mess everything up that I refused to even go. But after a while, Asriel managed to lure me out with chocolate, the sadistic bastard.” Rolling your eyes, you try not to smile. And fail. Whatever. “And then I had a great time.”

_Hypothetically,_ Frisk adds.

“Exactly.”

_Okay._ That apparently satisfies them, or at least reassures them, because they go all loose-limbed and sprawl back over the grass again. _Chocolate really is the answer to everything, isn’t it?_

“I’m offended you’d even imply it isn’t,” you scoff. 

_Is Asriel going?_

You can’t help but blink at the question. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t he?”

_I wasn’t sure, with him being gone for a while and stuff._ They shrug, turning a little to smile at you. _I was hoping we’d all be able to celebrate together._

Okay, that’s just unfair. Smiling back, you studiously ignore the ache forming inside your ribs.

Almost more than anything, you want to ask them if they’ve spoken to Asriel at all. Have they been talking since he left? When was the last time they heard from him? But the thought that their answer to that question might be “yes” or “today” or “five minutes ago” makes you wince, and it’s at least twice as mortifying than what they might think when they realize that he hasn’t responded to you since the day he left. You’ve worked so hard to not care about what other people think of you, but there’s that whole thing with the mortifying ideal of being known, and...

WIth their own birthday party looming on the horizon, the last thing Frisk needs is to be saddled with your bullshit anyway.

Movement from the doorway draws your attention. “Good morning!” Toriel smiles as she greets you both, usual bag on her arm and smile on her face. “Are you ready to get started?”

RIsing to your feet, you pull up your hood to protect your eyes against the glare of the sun, and help Frisk up after you.

/// 

Even though you both already knew what you’d be getting Frisk for their birthday, you’d thought you’d still have Asriel to help you brainstorm the exact specifications. It makes his silence all the more pronounced when you finally bite the bullet and step inside the little shop you’ve had your eye on for the past week.

Not that you haven’t been here before. This is just the one where you’re going inside to actually purchase something.

The two of you had discussed the obvious: getting Frisk their own locket would be an instant hit, but when you really thought about it, it seemed almost like an afterthought of a gift; a cop-out. It would be near impossible to find a close enough match to your lockets in the first place. Maybe Frisk wouldn’t consider that being given a third, off-brand necklace would imply they were still somehow “separate” from the two of you, but the idea did and still does make you...

A little uncomfortable, you guess. Whatever.

So you’re doing something else. And maybe you’re still nervous. Like, what if _not_ getting the necklace somehow makes them even more upset, like they’re still being excluded, or maybe the significance of the whole thing will fall flat and they just won’t get it. You’re not sure which would be worse. 

You buy it anyway. It’s a little late to change your mind, besides, and you try very hard to remind yourself that Frisk would be happy if they opened a box just to find _wrapping paper_ inside. It helps. Kind of.

You pile way more tissue paper into the box than necessary, just in case.

/// 

_ < *CHARAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
< *AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_

_ > *Holy shit, you’re alive._

_ < *I’M SO SORRY!!!!!!!!! I didn’t realize you weren’t getting any of my messages until like, yesterday!!  
< *Apparently there’s no signal in the woods. But there is now that I’m on my way back!!!!_

_ > *I accept your apology. As long as you don’t read literally any of the texts I sent over the past week._

_ < *Okay, but that means you can’t read any of mine either._

_ > *You mean the 247 unread messages I suddenly have in my inbox?_

_ < *Yeah, those ones. _

_ > *And I sent how many?_

_ < *183  
< *I think that makes us both really good at the being by ourselves things, right?_

_ > *Oh, sure. If “being really good” is code for “freaking out at the slightest hint of abandonment”, then yeah._

_ < *Oof._

_ > *Sorry. Let’s talk about something else._

_ < *Please. How’s the party coming?_

_ > *At this point, the only thing missing is the guests. And uh, Frisk already figured out the surprise, but they’re still playing along, so._

_ < *Oh good! Were you able to get our present??_

_ > *Yep. I hope they like it._

_ < *Can I see???_

_ > * File: #3.png_  
> *What do you think?  
> *I thought that we could all match, this way. 

_ < *Oh..........._

_ > *What is it????????_

_ < *Nothing, I just got like, a bunch of sand and dirt and rocks in my eye all at once  
< *Agh oof ouch the pain_

_ > *It’s good, then?_

_ < *Hold on, can’t type thru the tears of agony and definitely NOT the overwhelming saccharine sentimentality_

_ > *OK, loser. Save the prose for the RP boards._

_ < *Hey, Chara?_

_ < *I can’t wait to be home._

_ > *Neither can I._

///

In a shocking twist of events that’s a surprise to absolutely no one, the party goes off without a hitch. The pretense of a sleepover is put into motion the second that Asriel returns, even though it’s immediately derailed when Frisk steps through the fated door and finds all their friends waiting. They spend the first twenty minutes going around giving everyone an ample helping of hugs, which also doesn’t surprise you. 

(Though you can’t help but notice that they give a few more hugs to some than others, and are incredibly pleased to find yourself among those few.)

And they are, of course, absolutely awash with presents. MK gets an extra twirl-hug for their gift, their little banner proclaiming YOU ARE LOVED! from its spot of honor on the center wall. A telescope from Sans; a recipe book from Undyne that she quickly proclaims they’ll make everything from together; practically an entire album of music from Napstablook; you quickly lose track of what comes from who after that.

Frisk joins you at some point, sliding next to your chosen spot against a wall, and you raise an eyebrow at them as you sip your juice.

“Thoughts?”

_Yes,_ they say. They’re on their third slice of pie (cake?) and their nose is covered with frosting, which you’re almost entirely sure they’ve noticed and have just decided to leave there. _A lot. I don’t know what to do with this much...stuff._ They cast a glance over at the table where most of their presents are set, half of them still unwrapped, as if to say, is it really okay? Is this all for me? 

Or maybe you’re projecting your own feelings about it onto them. It’s hard to tell sometimes if there’s much of a difference, when the similarities between you seem to span so far. You’ll worry about that later. Maybe. 

“It might not be your real birthday or whatever,” you say, looking out towards the table where Asriel is currently knocked out at, “but it’s been a whole year since you joined us. And I’ve heard somewhere that people like to give gifts as a sign of appreciation.” Taking another sip of your drink is the only way you know how to keep yourself from laughing when Sans starts stacking plastic cups onto Asriel’s horns. 

A smile is all the warning you get before they surprise you with another hug. The feeling of it sticks with you long after they wander away again.

_ _

“So,” you say, heart hammering in your chest, “there’s still one more present left.”

The whole sleepover thing hadn’t been an entire lie, as it turns out. You and Asriel had arranged tonight’s blanket fort to ultimate form in preparation, twinkling fairy lights and soft pillows abound. All three of you are tired from the day’s events, but it’s far enough from true exhaustion that you can almost enjoy it, wrapped up in soft blankets with your two best friends.

Frisk watches in bewilderment as you lift up one of the walls of your fort, searching blindly under your bed until you find what you’re looking for and retrieve the box from its depths. “Here.”

They take it almost nervously. _Am I gonna end up crying?_

“Probably,” Asriel says, chin propped on his hand. “I sure did!”

“Just open it,” you snort. “It’s from both of us.”

It’s tough going trying to hide your absolute glee as they tear through the box, but it’s impossible when they open it to find...another, somewhat smaller box, and the look they give you as they lift it out is worth millions.

“Chara,” Asriel says, almost warningly, but it is far, far too late.

“Keep going,” you say innocently.

_One..._Frisk opens the box. _Two!!_ And then, _Three? How many are there?_ They’re not really looking for an answer, though, which is probably for the best. The next one is the real thing, after all. _Oh, _they say, and then, _what?_

“Back when we first met, I hated your guts,” you say, and then cough into your fist. “I mean, I also didn’t know you yet, but I did. Which is to say, now that we’re friends, I can’t really imagine what it’d be like here without you.”

“Me too,” Asriel says. “I mean, I didn’t hate you. But I’m really glad you’re our friend, Frisk. We’re a team now.”

“A real trio of fools,” you agree. “Which is why there’s one for each of us.”

_Welp,_ they say, still staring at their gift. _I’m crying._

“Baby,” you say, and then reaching towards the box, “can I?”

They hand it over, wiping at their eyes as they do. Inside are three braided cord bracelets, a red heart with a yellow star framing either side the only decoration. They’re tacky and loud and kind of perfect, barely needing to be adjusted when you tie the first bracelet around their wrist. They tie yours for you, and then Asriel’s, still sniffling.

_Why do I feel like I’ve just been sworn into a cult,_ is the first thing they say, surprising a laugh out of you.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Asriel, convincingly perturbed, looks over at you. “Shit, how are we gonna sacrifice them to the eldritch gods now?”

Sighing heavily, you place an open palm against your cheek. “The unspeakable horrors of the cosmos will just have to do without their lunch, I suppose.”

Frisk, snickering into their hand, doesn’t seem at all concerned. _Thanks,_ they say. _I... I’m really happy._

Asriel beams at them full force. “Well, you deserve it. It’s been a long year!”

_And I feel like this next one is gonna be even longer._ Frisk is still smiling when they look between you, but there’s a measure of trepidation there, too. _Chara said you’re gonna tell your parents about that rally soon, right?_

Ah. Right.

The reminder hits you like a punch to the gut. Asriel, though, doesn’t seem as caught off guard, and you wonder for the first time if the tiredness in his eyes isn’t just from the trip, and the party. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been rehearsing what I’m gonna say all week, but I get the feeling I’m gonna forget it all as soon as I bring it up...”

“When are you thinking?” Biting the inside of your cheek, you feel your heart skip a beat. “Tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” He rubs his forehead. “I don’t know? I want to wait for a good time, but I also don’t want to wait too long, and I don’t know if there _is_ a good time for something like this.”

None of you say anything for a minute. There’s a solution to this somewhere, you think. It sits coiled down in your stomach, a snake in the grass waiting for you to notice it, or something. It’s not the best metaphor. You’re also not sure that it’s even the best idea, but once it’s occurred to you, it’s impossible to shake.

“Frisk...” They meet your gaze when you look over to them. “What you said before, about... You really think it could work?”

They blink. And then they straighten up a little, as if they’ve already caught on. _Are you sure?_

“No,” you admit. “But you were right before, about us needing to make a choice before it’s made for us. At least this way we’d all be facing them together.”

_They’d have to listen to us then._ Their signs pick up pace, growing excited. _Not that they wouldn’t listen to us on our own, but if it was the three of us--_

“Guys?” Asriel frowns at you both, lost. “What are you saying?”

_We’ll go with you to see Toriel and Asgore,_ Frisk says, eyes bright. _We can tell them both everything we know, and about becoming ambassadors._

“Wait. Are you sure?” He shifts a little in his spot, fidgeting with the tassels of his bracelet. Looking to you, he says, “I thought you hadn’t made up your mind yet.”

You look at him for a moment. At the concern in his eyes, and the hope in Frisk’s, before both become too much for you and you look down at your own bracelet. “The whole idea is still terrifying, to be honest,” you mutter. “I still hate humans, and I’d be happy if I never have to see another one again. But,” you sigh, “something tells me I wouldn’t be able to run forever, even if I wanted to.” And boy, do you want to. Though that goes without saying.

Warm hands over yours. You look up to see Asriel, something in his expression that you can’t quite decipher, but he nods. A moment later, Frisk’s hands join the pile, and they nod, too.

“Team,” they whisper. “We’ve got each other’s backs.”

“We can work out how and when to bring it up tomorrow,” Asriel says. “After that...”

“No more running,” you decide. “Just moving forward.”

No matter what.


End file.
